


A knife to the throat will leave more than a scar

by thisplace_ishaunted



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Coffee Shop Dates, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Flirting, Kinktober 2020, Knifeplay, M/M, Necrophilia, Restraints, you like the juxtaposition of my tags?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisplace_ishaunted/pseuds/thisplace_ishaunted
Summary: ... when life hands you a mousey looking emo kid, who not only was willing to let you jerk him off with fake blood, but asked you to get coffee afterwards, you’re going to jump at the opportunity.Or, in other words, Chris has found the perfect victim and lures him back to the haunt for a night full of surprises.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953862
Comments: 18
Kudos: 15
Collections: Friends in Sin Kinktober 2020





	A knife to the throat will leave more than a scar

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Purple Shadows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733008) by [yours_eternally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally). 



> Happy **Kinktober 2020** piece #3!
> 
> Please mind the tags. That's all. I shouldn't have to say anything else. Play nice.
> 
> Again, I am back on my shit of Chris either being a precious little perfect nugget or a deranged blood-obsessed fiend... Which way will the pendulum swing? Who knows...
> 
> This is a continuation/spinoff of yours_eternally's piece from AUgust. I definitely think you should go read that first if you have not. This will make way more sense.

The weight of a knife should do the work for you. Not much additional pushing or force should be necessary; simply guide and manipulate and the knife will do its job. It will eventually become an extension of your hand, an extension of your being… watch it do the work for you. Watch it play its own games and find its own path. It will destroy so beautifully that might as well be creating something new. It will do the work of God, it just needs a little help.

It was almost too easy for Ricky to fall blind and dick-first right into Chris’ hands. Chris hadn’t even really been interested in picking up a new victim… but when life hands you a mousey looking emo kid, who not only was willing to let you jerk him off with fake blood, but asked you to get coffee afterwards, you’re going to jump at the opportunity.  
It was at this first coffee date that Chris realized they had something going. After Chris ordered his coffee, Ricky had simply said, “I’ll have one of what he’s having.” Maybe it was performative, Ricky’s little way of saying, “I like giving up control… and if I trust your judgement in coffee, I will most definitely trust your judgement in how you choose to fuck me.” How perfectly spineless of him.  
With how the rest of the date went, it was easy to tell that Ricky was already head over heels for Chris. Maybe it was the caffeine buzz, but Chris could see Ricky’s butterflies fluttering and nearly bursting through his chest.  
Chris could feel Ricky’s eyes hotly trace up and down his frame, watching his mouth as he talked, watching his hands as he toyed with the mug on the too-tiny table. Chris had chosen this table in particular; it was the type of table you could barely fit a laptop on, but was the perfect way to casually have their faces less than a meter apart. Maybe Ricky was dreaming about those hands on him again, tracing up his skin and making him feel powerless beneath their stretch. “Soon, doll, soon…” Chris wanted to tell him.  
Chris led him on, planting seeds that he thought Ricky was cute, hot, perfect… any string of words that would lead Ricky like a sheep to slaughter.  
“Would you want to go back to the haunt?” Chris popped his question about two-thirds through their date. The foam in their drinks had already deflated, leaving a ring of dry almond milk foam partway down their cup, but they were still warm enough to sip on.  
“What do you mean? Like, to visit you at work?” Ricky’s brows turned down with the question, but a curious smile peaked at the corner of his mouth.  
“No, more like…” Chris let out a perfectly casual chuckle, allowing Ricky to answer his own question.  
“ _Oh…_ Um, yeah, actually. I think I’d like to.”  
“You enjoyed yourself last time?” Chris didn’t beat around the bush, he wanted to hear Ricky _say it_ that he enjoyed the previous shenanigans that Chris had subjected him to, that Ricky hadn’t even considered he would be turned on by the giant prop knife and fake blood running down his torso.  
“I think you already know the answer to that. I’m here, aren’t I?”  
How perfectly spineless.

They had decided to drive up to the haunt site together. It was a Tuesday night, one of the few days a week that the haunt was closed during the season. There aren’t many people looking to get scared shitless and have to go into work the next day.  
With a jingle of keys, Chris unlocked the main door to the building. The hospital had been abandoned years ago, and the haunt company had purchased the property for what seemed like a steal. It was perfect for their newest project, a completely personalized scare experience, the bus trip to the site and your very own dingy hospital robes included. Most people soiled them anyways.  
It was already dark outside, adding to the experience that Ricky really was just blindly following Chris out here to the middle of nowhere. Maybe Ricky was just hot for the thrill of it all, or maybe he was just that dumb. Chris didn’t really care either way. The dumb ones were the most fun.  
Chris held the door open, allowing Ricky to take a few steps inside the pitch-black space; he didn’t dare walk much further. Chris pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight. Out here, out of range of cell signal, flashlights were all their phones were good for.  
“Stay here for a second, I will go turn on the generator.” Chris stepped past Ricky, his flashlight dimming as he walked down a hall.  
The chill of the outside air wiggled its way through the cracks in the walls and the busted out windows, giving them a shiver. The room was silent and smelled of dust and dirt. Chris flipped the generator on, and a few utility lights placed along a wall illuminated, banishing the darkness to the shadowy corners.  
They had entered into the first room of the haunt, where previously Ricky had knelt with the group and Chris had picked _him_ as his victim for the evening. Ricky’s long hair had been messed up and hanging stringy in his eyes from the bag that was over his head, and his petite frame looking even more helpless kneeled to the ground. Ricky was the easy choice. The perfect type of guy that Chris liked to fuck with, and fuck around with.  
“So do you have a plan for me?” Ricky asked as Chris returned to the first room from down the hall, looking classically authoritative in a leather jacket to keep warm in the chill of the evening.  
Chris closed the space between their bodies, resting his forearms on Ricky’s shoulders. Chris tucked his chin down, Ricky’s bugged eyes looking up to match his.  
“Of course I have a plan for you, doll,” Chris answered coolly before kissing Ricky’s mouth. Their lips immediately parted, their tongues intertwining and breathing into each other’s movements, desperate for more contact.  
It was Chris that broke away, his lips flushed and puckered from their kiss. “Tell me you trust me,” Chris asked hotly, it was a demand but his tone turned it into a plea.  
“I do. I trust you,” Ricky responded, chewing his lip and Chris could feel it go straight to his dick.  
“Perfect.” Chris said. 

They were back in the autopsy room, and Ricky lay supine and shirtless on the porcelain examination table.  
“Are you going to squirm this time?” Chris asked as he used worn leather straps to bind Ricky’s legs to the table.  
“Well, if I squirm, you know you’re doing something right.”  
Again, it went straight to Chris’ dick.  
This room was darker than the entry room, only a single work light in the corner shined upwards and onto a scary mannequin prop. The light bathed Ricky’s body in shadows, the hills and valleys of his skin, reflecting the light back or pooling the darkness. Chris could see the gleam of Ricky's eyes as he stared upwards, waiting for Chris to finish working with the straps at his legs, matching the ones at his wrists.  
Chris pulled on the straps performatively, making a show of their strength, then said, “You’re not going anywhere, doll.”  
Chris stepped up closer to Ricky’s chest, leaning over his body and planting his two hands on either side of Ricky’s head. He leaned in close to Ricky’s face, feeling their energy draw him in for something like a kiss, but instead asked wetly, “You know this place is haunted, right?”  
“I’m not scared,” Ricky responded. The ignorant confidence in his tone was ballsy, and Chris already wanted to fuck it right out of him.  
Chris threw his leg up onto the table and over Ricky, now kneeling on either side of his hips, his wrists held tight by the restraints.  
“I don’t think the ghosts are what you should be afraid of anyways.”  
Chris ran his hands down Ricky’s chest, letting his nails drag and feeling the way Ricky’s chest rose and fell beneath his hands. These are the same breaths that would soon quicken before struggling and then falling away completely.  
Leaning forward, Chris finally gave Ricky what he wanted, kissing his mouth hard, nipping at him and Chris had to keep himself from biting clean through Ricky’s bottom lip. Ricky’s head moved and lifted to keep the connection between their mouths, but the rest of his body was pinned to the table beneath Chris’ weight.  
Chris brought the kiss down Ricky’s jaw, licking and sucking on his neck and causing Ricky to tilt his head upwards and let his eyes close. Small moans began to escape from Ricky’s mouth, succumbing to the heat of Chris’ wet tongue on his skin and the weight of Chris’ body on his own.  
“You want me to play dead?” Ricky stuttered out in between his moans.  
Chris took a pause in sucking on Ricky’s throat, “Something like that…” he responded. He could nearly hear Ricky’s blood pulsating right beneath his pale skin, so close but yet so far from Chris’ lips. It was teasing him, calling out to him, desperate to leap up out of Ricky’s body and bathe Chris’ skin.  
Chris reached behind his back, pulling out the sheathed blade he had there. This was the kind of knife he favored for instances like this: small and compact, easy to hide in the waistband of his pants, but nimble and sharp as could be. He brought the blade up to the other side of Ricky’s throat, and flatly pressed the cold tip onto his skin.  
The sting of the tip caught Ricky’s attention, bringing him out of his lustful moment, and he looked down at what Chris had in hand.  
“Well, that is different.” Ricky swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed beside Chris’ blade.  
“I thought we could kick things up a notch,” Chris replied, dragging the tip of the knife down over Ricky’s neck, over his collarbone and towards the center of his chest. The path of the blade left a shallow scratch, not quite drawing blood yet, but the weight of the knife was enough to break open Ricky’s flesh and leave a pale, blotchy line.  
“You said you trust me?” Chris asked again, wanting to hear Ricky _say it_ : admit that he was dumb and unsuspecting and the perfect victim.  
“Yes,” Ricky breathed, his voice hitching in his throat and his chest rising and falling into the tip of the knife.  
Chris took great care in making the first deep cuts into Ricky’s upper chest. The flesh beneath his blade parted, blood pooling to the surface and dripping off of the sides of Ricky’s body, hitting the table below him. Finally… what Chris had been so hungry for was finally here and bright and beautiful. Ricky called out in pain, pulled out of his headspace with the sudden realization that all of this was very _real_ and that Chris was actually causing him harm.  
“Why are you screaming? This is what you wanted,” Chris stated flatly, his cock hard and twitching in his jeans as he watched the paths of blood seeped down either side of Ricky’s chest.  
“Dude! What the fuck? You actually cut me!” Ricky yelled out, his adrenaline pumping and attempting to dull the pain.  
“No shit, I cut you. Don’t you want to look pretty under my knife, doll?”  
“-the fuck do you mean?!” Ricky was panting at this point, his body squirming beneath where Chris was straddling him.  
“Don’t you want to be scared? You’re so beautiful split open…” Chris ran his hands over the cuts, spreading Ricky’s blood like paint and making his hands slick. He held his palms up for Ricky to see, “Look….”  
Ricky’s eyes widened and he continued to pant, watching in horror as Chris unbuttoned his fly, pushed down his waistband, and began stroking his own hardened cock with the blood slick hand.  
Chris shifted his knees upwards, now straddling Ricky’s chest, and brought down his length, rubbing it and slapping it along the oozing slices. The sting of the contact made Ricky scream, and Chris had seemingly had enough.  
“You talked less last time,” Chris said annoyedly and brought his left hand down over Ricky’s mouth. Ricky vocalized loudly in response, attempting to open his mouth and bite at Chris’ sticky fingers, but was unsuccessful.  
Chris ran his hand over the cuts again, lubricating his hand with fresh blood, and resumed stroking himself. Nearly bucking into his own hand, Chris pressed his weight harder and harder into Ricky’s mouth.  
Chris reached for his knife again, leaving his cock alone to throb and drip precome, mixing with Ricky’s blood. Chris leaned forward and held the blade up beside where his hand covered Ricky’s mouth.  
“Don’t you wish you would be around to experience the things I want to do to you? Wouldn’t that be nice? Instead you will be gone… you’ll just have to trust that I had my fun with you.” Chris’ breath was hot in Ricky’s face, and Ricky’s eyes darted between the length of the cold blade pressing into his cheek, and the devilish grin plastered across Chris’ face. The joy was too much now; there was no point in hiding his excitement from Ricky anymore.  
In a last effort to fight, Ricky jostled his body on the table, but the restraints did not grant him any give. Instead, the rustle of his torso bucked him into where Chris’ thighs were straddled across his wounded chest, making Chris’ cock bounce. Watching Ricky squirm and fight was only making this more fun for Chris… the dumb cute boy thought he stood a chance.  
“Isn’t it hot to be scared?” This was the last thing Chris said as he pulled his hand off of the bottom half of Ricky’s face. He let Ricky scream for a moment, allowing the sound of absolute terror fill the room and bounce off the walls. He could feel the fear of the screech seep into his skin, rattle his bones, make his heart flutter. In a quick and climactic downswing of his knife, Chris sliced through Ricky’s throat.  
Chris’ ears rang and his sight went fuzzy, nearly coming untouched just by witnessing the last, struggled moments of Ricky’s life beneath his thighs. Ricky gurgled and sputtered, but no breath came. Blood sprayed out of the massive gash in his throat, soaking Chris’ jeans and Ricky’s face, and it was beautiful.  
Chris panted and watched as Ricky’s life streamed out of his neck, pooling aside his head and soaking his hair. It drained through the holes in the table and dripped onto the concrete floor with a soft patter. Chris was salivating; it was time.  
Using both hands, Chris lifted Ricky’s partially severed head, his soaked hair brushing against Chris’ wrists and sticking there. Ricky’s body curved at the chest until his head was at the perfect height of Chris’ hips.  
Chris could not wait any longer, and worked to line his cock up with the wound of Ricky’s throat. He was slick and warm as Chris began to fuck into his neck. How long would that warmth last?  
Feeling the _squelch_ of Ricky’s insides around his cock made Chris moan out in pleasure, the sound bouncing around the room in the same way of Ricky’s last screams. It was almost poetic.  
The chase, the catch, the devourment of the stupid emo boy was complete and he was here beneath Chris and around his cock and it nearly made Chris cry out in satisfaction. Chris’ feral energy was unrelenting as he fucked his hips into what was left of Ricky’s neck.  
Chris held tighter into Ricky’s hair, nails pulling at his scalp, and wished so badly he could feel Ricky’s tissue clench around his cock. Chris’ heavy breaths and moans fought through his tightened abdomen as he approached release. All it took was a quick glance downward at the obscenity below him to push Chris over the edge, his cum pumping into Ricky’s neck. Ricky was _his_ for the taking; Ricky’s life, his body, his blood, all belonged to Chris in this moment. There could never be another one like Ricky.  
Chris pulled away, letting Ricky’s head fall back to the table, the wound looking wrecked and busted open with use. Chris could even see his own cum, mixing amongst the blood and the muscle exposed to the air.  
Sweat dripped down Chris’ face and down his back, his leather jacket too warm for such a scene. He ran his fingers through Ricky’s tangled and sticky hair, cupping the side of his jaw in his palm. Chris leaned down once more, planting a kiss on the side of Ricky’s face.  
The energy of the moment hung in the air, the smell of sex mixing with the smell of Ricky’s insides turned out. This was the real fear. This was the real energy of a scare. By the weekend, Ricky’s blood would dry on the concrete floor and only add to the ambiance of the room. A new haunt victim would be led into the room, clad in their greying hospital gown, and they would be amazed that the haunt went so far as to paint the room with a smell of putrid decay and death. A normal haunted house couldn’t come anywhere close. 

**Author's Note:**

> Chris @ Ricky really be like  
>   
> Title from Just When You Thought We Couldn't Get Any More Emo...


End file.
